


Today is Tomorrow

by alpheratz



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M, Sibling Incest, Van Days
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-25
Updated: 2013-08-25
Packaged: 2017-12-24 15:09:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/941415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alpheratz/pseuds/alpheratz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They haven't even been a band for two years, and they’re opening for Midtown. Gerard just wishes Mikey would stop telling him about sex with Gabe. And having sex with Gabe where Gerard can see them. And, really, having sex with Gabe at all, especially since Mikey doesn't even seem to be getting orgasms out of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Today is Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place during a fictional 2003 East Coast tour. Midtown and MCR did tour together in 2003 - [there's video, in fact](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Evi64N9Hgec), that this story borrows from - but all the details of the tour are entirely fictionalized. 
> 
> Huge thanks to lalejandra for beta reading and to inlovewithnight for cheerleading.
> 
> Petrify created an amazing mix for this fic. Check it out here: [wild love](http://alpheratz.dreamwidth.org/143040.html)

They weren't supposed to stop in Philly, but Otter had said, "I really want a cheesesteak" the first time Philadelphia appeared on a green interstate sign. He didn't mention it again, but Gerard could tell by Mikey's face that Mikey could tell by Ray's face that Otter had made Ray want a cheesesteak too. Not too long after, Gerard heard the clicking of the turn signal and Ray took the exit.

They had plenty of time to kill, but Ray usually would never have wasted their gas money on a detour like that. That was a certainty. But that morning, Gerard had found a crumpled twenty-dollar bill in the back pocket of his jeans. He hadn't remembered where it had come from and had mentally allocated it to catching up on Batman comics the next time there was an opportunity, but whatever. Ray deserved it. Also, Gerard secretly wanted a cheesesteak, and so did Mikey.

Gerard leaned his head against the cold window, slipping a little in the condensation with a squidgy-like sound that was half-water, half-grease. It was sort of like washing his hair, he thought. 

"They make awesome vegan cheesesteak," he heard Mikey say quietly to Frank when Ray flicked on the turn signal and headed to the exit, even though Frank hadn't said anything.

"How would you even know?" Frank asked, giggling quietly. And then Gerard fell asleep.

He woke up when the van door slammed and Ray's laughter spilled inside. There was something cold dripping down his neck and he was shivering all over, hunched in on himself trying to stay warm. They must've been gone a long time.

Otter and Ray got in the front of the van and started making chewing noises like ravenous beasts Gerard had only seen in B-movies, Frank got in his spot next to the amps in the back, kicking Gerard in the thigh on his way there as a friendly hello, and Mikey slid in next to Gerard, shoving a warm, wrapped foot-long into his arms. 

"Fuck, it's cold."

Gerard nodded in agreement. The cheesesteak's warmth insinuated itself in between Gerard's doubled-up hoodies and sank all the way down into his bones. It smelled incredible. Mikey smelled like beer. He smelled like the cold, too, not like the bone-chilling cold of the window, but fresh, like imminent snow in the air.

"Does your head hurt?" asked Mikey.

"Kind of. Not too bad for a hangover."

"I got you some water." Mikey put a bottle in Gerard's lap. It was as slippery and wet with condensation as the window, the ice-cold droplets soaking immediately through Gerard's jeans. Gerard bit down on a squeal and let it roll off onto the floor and under the driver's seat.

"They only had refrigerated, sorry." Mikey stretched down and rooted around under Ray's seat for the bottle, emerging victoriously several seconds later. The bottle was a little grimy, but definitely somewhat less wet. 

"It's okay." Gerard hugged the cheesesteak and squeezed himself close to Mikey, putting as much distance between himself and the window as he could. The hot air from the front of the van was warming him up.

Mikey grumbled a little but let Gerard cling. Gerard wiped his nose on his sleeve and stuck his cheesesteak under his top hoodie. If he hid his face under Mikey's arm, he was almost warm.

"What are you doing?" Frank's voice said loudly above them. Gerard winced and squeezed his eyes shut tighter.

"I'm _cold_ ," Mikey said petulantly.

"You're rubbing your balls on that sandwich, you perv."

"They're cold too, and I am not. I'm just holding it. Between my thighs." Mikey tightened his arm around Gerard. "Anyway, if you tried it, you'd see what I meant."

There was a rustling and a grudgingly approving sound from Frank, and Gerard smiled quietly into Mikey's armpit. Mikey unwrapped the top of his cheesesteak and curved over it to bite down.

"This is really phallic," mumbled Gerard.

"Fuck off," said Mikey, mouth full. He chewed laboriously and swallowed. "I texted Gabe; they're sleeping at the big rest stop in Delaware. We'll stop there, too. Cool?"

Gerard nodded. "I need a smoke break."

At the rest stop, he pulled on his coat like he'd grudgingly promised his mother, and gradually wandered off farther and farther away from the van until he was at the cracked edges of the pavement, under overhanging, leaning, highway-dust trees that were stripped to the bone by the approaching winter. From there, the two streams of the turnpike were just twin rushing sounds and a glow at the edges of his vision.

The grey-lit bare branches parting over his head against the backdrop of the muddy night sky looked like veins on a decomposing corpse. Gerard squinted and tried covering the cherry of his cigarette to see if that would make his eyes adjust and make the branches stand out more when Mikey wandered over in just his hoodie and holding his half-eaten cheesesteak.

Mikey hunched over and planted his face in the middle of Gerard's chest like he was trying to burrow inside it. 

"Jesus, Mikey, it's buttoned," said Gerard, pushing Mikey away like he would a cat, with a hand pressing on his forehead; he undid his buttons one-handed, trying not to drop his smoke or burn a hole in his coat. "Okay."

Mikey pressed himself to Gerard with a shiver and Gerard took one last, regretful puff and dropped his cigarette on the ground. "Why'd you leave your coat in the van?"

Mikey snaked one of his arms around Gerard's waist, under the coat. The other hand was still wedged between them and clutching the sandwich. It was barely warm anymore. "Dunno."

"You're going to catch a cold." Gerard wrapped the coat around both of them securely. It didn't go all the way around, so he put his hands on Mikey's bare neck to protect it from the cold air and wind. His own hands were cold now, and chapped, but he figured it was better than nothing.

Mikey sighed a little and Gerard slipped one of his hands a little lower to cover more ground, feeling Mikey's bony vertebrae under his palm. "You could at least put up your hood."

Mikey said something muffled into Gerard's chest. Gerard sighed and put Mikey's hood up and pulled on the strings to tighten it around Mikey's face. Mikey propped his chin up on Gerard's collarbone and looked up, making his eyes big. Gerard giggled and tugged on the strings again so they squished Mikey's cheeks.

Mikey huffed and swung around so they were only pressed shoulder-to-shoulder. He took a bite of his sandwich and said, "I think I'm going to ride with Gabe until DC. D'you mind?"

Gerard shook his head and ignored the fact that he minded. "Nah. Go."

There was waving and shouting near the vans. 

"Are we sleeping here or there?"

Mikey shrugged one shoulder. "Probably there. Ray said something about rush-hour traffic."

"Are you guys friends or are you, like, fucking?" Gerard said and cringed because he hadn't meant to say it out loud.

Mikey looked confused. "Me and Ray?"

Gerard shook his head. "Never mind. Not my business."

"Oh," said Mikey. "Me and Gabe. Both? We haven't actually fucked. I blew him one time."

"I didn't know he was into dudes," said Gerard, resolutely ignoring the TMI.

Mikey crumpled his cheesesteak wrapper and shoved it into the pocket of his hoodie. "Into dudes enough to get blown by one. I'm not really sure about anything else, but it looks promising."

"He has to want to blow you if he's going to deserve you, you know," said Gerard and instantly wished he hadn't thrown away his cigarette so he'd have a way to shut up. "I'm going to go buy another pack. I ran out."

"Do you have any more money?" asked Mikey. Gerard didn't know if his distraction tactic was successful or not. Mikey was probably just biding his time like the sneaky motherfucker that he was.

"Enough for a pack of smokes."

Mikey trailed him to the store and leaned his head on Gerard's back while Gerard was handing over his money. The tired woman at the till eyed them -- seemingly out of boredom more than anything else -- and Gerard felt only a twinge of self-consciousness trapped between her look and the weight of Mikey's head heavy on his back. The inhumanly fluorescent lighting was nearly unbearable, and Gerard breathed a sigh of relief when they got out, even though Mikey separated himself from Gerard and went off towards the Midtown van with a wave.

Gerard looked between the Midtown van and their own, sitting quietly at the pump with everyone already inside except himself and Mikey. He wanted to follow Mikey and tell Gabe... something. He wasn't sure what. But then someone turned the ignition key in his van, the headlights came on, and Gerard didn't have a choice.

Ray was at the wheel again. He pulled out of the lot and merged into the highway carefully and weirdly respectfully. It was hilarious. Ray took his promise to Gerard's grandma not to kill her grandchildren seriously, and he drove the van exactly like she was sitting next to him and observing.

Watching his reverent hands on ten and two only entertained Gerard for a little while. Frank fell asleep gradually, sagging into Gerard's side like a malleable furnace. His even breathing and Otter's quiet efforts to keep Ray awake and the van on track to DC were the only sounds in the van. Getting into the groove of the road was grounding, but Gerard felt unsettled and shaken anyway. He pressed his face to the fogged-up window, squidging his finger across it in random, intersecting lines and exposing the night outside. 

It was a different sort of darkness than the darkness in the van. Gerard watched it for a while, the flickering of trees and cars and everything else, pressed up close so the damp chill from the window prickled on his lips. He didn't want to sleep at all. 

Then something caught in his throat, because the Midtown van pulled up next to them, veering a bit like it was attracting attention, and there were faces shouting something behind the glass. Gerard waved, because there was no one to wave instead of him and Midtown were pretty cool guys. Plus... he had to admit to himself that he didn't want to take the chance that one of those blurry faces was Mikey's and ignore it by sliding down in his seat, hiding, when the van passed them.

Ray huffed quietly, the kind of half-laugh that meant he was amused even though he didn't want to be. Gerard smiled to himself a tiny bit and sprang forward, wrapping his arms around the back of Ray's seat and around Ray's shoulders just to get some emotion out, and settled in by Frank again, curling into his side to split what there was left of body heat between them.

He must've fallen asleep -- and pretty hard -- because the next thing he knew, doors were banging open. Gerard started, sitting upright, his heart knocking in his chest. He'd been hacking at branches in his dream and his axe kept falling through his fingers. In the dream, it was nighttime, but now it was bright, white sunlight pouring through the smeared windows. He must've slept for hours.

"Hey, easy," Frank said, crouching with one knee on the seat cushion. "Should've known you'd wake up just in time."

Gerard rubbed his eyes with a fist. "In time for?"

"Breakfast." Frank leaned down and extracted a pair of sunglasses from between the cushions. "And then unloading our shit."

Gerard yawned. "Okay, Frankie."

He found his own sunglasses and followed Frank out of the van, rearing back when the light hit him. Frank didn't even bother making a vampire joke, just locked the van and hip-checked Gerard to start walking. 

Ray and Otter were sitting in a booth at a tiny diner a few blocks away. Midtown had the booth right next to theirs, and that's where Mikey was, with his back to Gerard, his head drooping and his hair disarranged. Gerard paused and blinked, not sure what to do next, but finally slid in next to Otter, conscious of the empty space on his other side and of Mikey right behind him.

Frank quirked his lips and sat next to Ray. Gerard dropped his head, letting his hair fall into his face to make his jealousy a little less transparent. He ran his finger around the edges of the laminated menu. Maybe bacon. And pancakes. Ray and Otter already had pancakes and a healthy pile of bacon, and obviously preferred to chew instead of talking, which suited Gerard just fine. He eyed Frank surreptitiously. He was quiet too, probably nervous about the show that night. The 9:30 Club was a big fucking deal. Gerard was nervous about it too. 

The silence in their booth made the Midtown chatter and Mikey's quiet, wry responses pretty obvious, no matter how hard Gerard tried to tune it out. Everything was too loud and too bright. Driving at night in the van, that's what he liked. His band and the humming of the road, and those weird clanging noises the van started to make two days into the tour. Gas station shops were an okay intrusion of reality. Not that diner food was offensive in any way, but the waitresses and the college students in hoodies, faces buried in textbooks... all of that felt a little like being drop-kicked into an ocean of routine. 

"Hey, kiddo, you decide what you want?" 

Gerard jumped and looked up. The waitress was looking at him patiently. "Yeah, uh. French toast and bacon. Please." 

"Awesome choice," came Mikey's voice from above. 

Gerard tipped his head back. Mikey's chin was propped up on the back of the booth. His mouth was in a little line and his eyes were blurry behind his smudged lenses. "Come here."

The waitress set a plate of bacon in front of Gerard blessedly quickly, before Mikey even had a chance to reply. He gave Gerard a tiny nod and slid down, disappearing from view. 

Gerard nudged Matt and scooted over, and Mikey slid in, looking a little ravaged but awake. He grabbed a piece of bacon off Gerard's plate and started to chew.

"Sure, you can have my bacon, Mikey."

"Sorry," said Mikey, startled. 

Gerard must've sounded grumpier than he meant. He bit his lip and pushed his plate a little closer to Mikey. "Help yourself." 

Mikey relaxed into Gerard's side and took another slice of bacon. "Thanks." 

"He needs protein," said Frank. "Because of all the, you know." He made a jacking off gesture with his hand. Ray dropped his head on the table.

"Trust me, I get enough protein," Mikey said archly, and Gerard coughed on his toast. 

Otter groaned. "So, about our equipment."

Frank leered and Matt reached over the cluttered table to cuff him on the side of the head. "Seriously, not over breakfast. I don't care how nutritious Mikey's diet is."

"Christ," Gerard mumbled. He hoped Gabe didn't hear them, but he was on the other side of the booth, so that was probably too much to hope for, and yeah, it only took a moment for a small, terrifying commotion to start in the other booth – the sounds of people being stepped over – and for Gabe to amble the two feet over.

Gabe was very tall and very skinny, and when he leaned in, reaching over Mikey to ruffle Gerard's hair, his hip pressed into Mikey's shoulder. The string of his hoodie fell across Mikey's face. Mikey blew it away and pushed on Gabe's hip. 

"Little room there, Saporta."

"Oh, sorry, I'm getting in your way," said Gabe and pressed in closer, pushing both his hips into Mikey's shoulder now. His jeans pulled tight across his crotch. Gerard bit his lip and stared, frozen, until Gabe leaned in and rapped on Gerard's head with his knuckles.

Gerard looked up guiltily. "Huh?"

Gabe was grinning at him with too many teeth. "I said, I dug your set the other day."

"Oh," said Gerard, experimentally twitching his mouth into what was hopefully a smile. "Thanks, I guess. I was pretty wasted."

"Happens to all of us," said Gabe, twirling Gerard's plate with little shoves of his finger.

Mikey smiled, very small but enough that Gerard could tell, and gave Gabe a little shove in the junk with his shoulder. "That's real bacon, so don't bother stealing it."

Gerard dropped his head and brushed his hair out from behind his ears so he wouldn't have to see the gross flirting between his brother and Gabe from Midtown with his teeth and junk and knuckles. His plate was still in front of Mikey and he didn't dare rescue it, and his French toast was nowhere to be seen, but at least he had most of a cup of coffee. He would have to ration it wisely if he was going to make it through breakfast without looking up and talking to the waitress, like he was going to have to ration his Mikey-time to avoid watching him and Gabe.

He jumped when someone tugged on his hair. "Hey," said Mikey quietly.

Gerard turned his head. Mikey was looking at him intently through the smeared lenses of his glasses.

"I'm fine," Gerard said preemptively.

Mikey narrowed his eyes ever-so-slightly. "Eat your breakfast."

Gerard slanted his eyes to look at the plate and then over to Gabe's jeans and the grimy elastic hem of his hoodie. Why was Gabe hovering, anyway, he thought, accepting the plate when Mikey pushed it an inch closer to Gerard with one finger. The bacon tasted okay -- but, most importantly, it was crispy, and it was something to do while he wondered why Gabe wasn't making them all scoot over to sit right up against Mikey's side or why he wasn't dropping into Mikey's lap, taking up space like Gerard had seen him do in clubs all over Jersey. Maybe this was Gabe pre-liquor. Daytime, somewhat more considerate Gabe. Or non-hungover Gabe. He knew that much, because Mikey smelled like familiar unwashed Mikey with a hint of faded smoke of Gerard's cigarettes and rest stop coffee. There wasn't anything new there, not beer and not vodka, and definitely not sex. 

Gerard jumped again when Gabe's voice cut in through his contemplation of a smudge on Gabe's hoodie. "Do I have something on my pants?" 

Gerard jerked his eyes up and coughed on a piece of bacon. "No, dude."

Gabe was looking down at his hoodie and his face was genuinely upset. "Fuck that, this is my last clean one."

"It's not very clean," said Mikey in a sympathetic voice.

"It's really not," said Frank, breaking up the zombie-like chewing on the opposite side of the booth. Ray's hair was bobbing dangerously close to his scrambled eggs. 

Gabe sucked his thumb into his mouth all the way up to the first knuckle and scrubbed at the smudge with a concentrated, lethal frown. 

Mikey put his hand on Gabe's arm and Gerard quickly looked away. "Chill. There's a laundry room at the venue, man."

Gabe perked up. "Sweet." He reached over Mikey's head to the other booth, hoodie riding up and jeans slipping down, giving Gerard an up-close view of brown skin and white CKs and Mikey a faceful of crotch, and emerged with a plate of fries. 

"Okay," said Gerard uncomfortably, gulping down the last of the coffee. "I'm gonna." He half-stood up and his knees slammed against the table. "Ow!"

Ray's head snapped up, his hair bouncing like a slinky. "Don't unload anything until I can supervise."

Mikey rubbed Gerard's knee that was closest to him. "Does it really hurt?"

Gerard squeezed his eyes shut and breathed through the flare of pain. Where the denim moved under Mikey's hand, it scraped against the raw, bruised skin, but where his fingers slipped into the ragged holes in the jeans, they were warm and soft, and the catch of his calluses was pleasantly similar to the sensation of scraping a nail against a scab. 

"It's fine. I'm gonna go for a walk, okay? Don't worry, Toro, I'm not going to ruin the amps."

"Seriously, Toro," said Otter through a mouthful of hash browns. "Like that dude would ever touch an amp."

Gerard flipped off the table, waving his hand around liberally, and crawled over Mikey with dignity and aplomb, steadying himself on Gabe as he stood up because there wasn't anything else to grab. Gabe barely moved -- the fucker was skinny, but strong. "I'll see you guys at the club."

"Don't get shot, Way," Gabe called after him.

Gerard glared at the door and walked outside. The air hit him with the smell of frost. The cold felt sweet and gentle on his overheated cheeks, and when he stepped out of the shadow of the awning, the sun was warm enough that he unzipped his top hoodie an inch or two, just to let out some of the extra warmth. 

Gerard looked up and down the street and decided to circle the block. It didn't matter which way he went; this wasn't a part of Washington they'd visited on family vacation or on the one eighth-grade trip he'd desperately tried to get out of. The nice thing was that it was pretty deserted in the middle of the morning and that the crumbly old facades had some sweet graffiti on it. A few blocks away, there were students walking with backpacks; there was a building with fascinating brickwork that Gerard thought really needed to face a bigger street so it could be seen; down the block was an abandoned lot that was all field, with grass and weeds straining at the wire fence that tried to contain them. 

Gerard stopped when he recognized the corner of the venue from a block away. He sat down on a curb and lit a cigarette. By then, the diner warmth that had been trapped inside his clothes had completely disappeared and was replaced by the chilly air that even Gerard's walking and the sunlight couldn't quite ward off. The cigarette and its warm smoke warmed up his face and his runny nose. It was probably red by now. 

He was a really attractive lead singer, Gerard thought glumly. 

He heard a van door slam in the distance and the faint voice of Ray in command mode. He was missing the equipment unloading, which was fine. He tended to drop things anyway. 

Gerard looked up at the blue sky and thought of Mikey and Gabe, finally, after trying not to for so long. The strip of skin above Gabe's underwear and the knuckle in Gabe's mouth, and how Mikey was tapping that, kind of, and what that must've been like. Probably pretty good, if Gabe wasn't blowing him in return. 

The noises from the direction of the venue quieted down. It was probably safe to return, but Gerard scooted up to the wall of the building behind him instead and smoked another cigarette, staring up at the sky and thinking about nothing much at all. 

He sat there as long as he could without incurring the wrath of Ray, and then he stood up, flicking specks of ash from his jeans, and headed to the venue. 

The space wasn't large but it seemed enormous to Gerard, because he knew how it would transform at night. It would be twice the size of now and infinitely more terrifying with him seeing it from above and the crowd of kids with lights reflecting from their eyes like animals in looking in on a forest campfire. 

Ray was at the back of the room, untangling a knot of cables up on the stage. Matt was a faint movement at the very back of the stage, barely noticeable except for the occasional shivering of cymbals announcing his presence. Frank was running through chords sidestage, and Gerard could only hear him, too. Frank was so good and getting better with every show, and it didn't even seem to matter how fucked up he got or how sick. 

And Mikey was... Mikey was nowhere. Gerard took a couple of steps back before Ray noticed him and roped him into helping and looked around to count the members of Midtown. They had all dragged all their gear onstage and were huddled in a corner near one of the bars, talking quietly and rolling around a beer can. Gerard wanted a beer, but he was distracted by the creeping, hollow feeling in his chest when he undercounted Midtown by one. Gabe wasn't there either. 

"Boo," a quiet voice huffed in his ear. 

Gerard screamed a little bit and Frank clapped a hand over his mouth. "Fucker, shut up, do you want Ray to see you?"

Gerard shook his head and bit Frank's palm. He only caught a fold of dirty glove between his teeth, but Frank took his hand away anyway. 

"Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" Gerard hissed, whirling around to glare at Frank. 

Frank gave him a wide, angelic smile. Gerard couldn't be pissed at that smile. 

"Here's the thing," said Frank. "We have dirty laundry. You're a slacker. Slackers have to do laundry. Ergo, get our crap from the van and ask that dude over there to show you where the washer is."

Gerard wrinkled his nose. "Why should I wash your fucking underpants? And Otter's underpants, for that matter?"

"You're cool with Mikey and Ray's gross tighty-whities? I'll tell Ray! He'll be touched."

Gerard grabbed Frank by the arm and Frank fell pliantly into his side, making them both stagger. "Okay, whatever, asshole, I'll do it."

It would be something to do, anyway, an excuse to hide while his brother did who knows what with Gabe Saporta from Midtown and Ray spun himself into tighter and tighter coils of perfectionism and displaced stage fright. 

"Good," Frank said with a big smile. Gerard smiled back without thinking. "Separate the whites from everything else. Good luck."

Gerard rolled his eyes and gave one last display of resistance. "How the fuck am I supposed to tell what needs washing, anyway?" 

Frank stared at him like Gerard had mixed up _Star Trek_ and _Star Wars_. "We've been on tour for over a week. Everything needs washing."

Gerard stomped out of the venue. The sudden sunlight after the cool dimness of the venue made his eyes water. He smeared the vestiges of last night's eyeliner everywhere when he rubbed the heel of his hand across his face hard enough to sprout starbursts behind his eyelids. Okay. He would throw everything made of fabric in the van into the 9:30 Club's washer and then he'd read comic books the rest of the afternoon and it would balance out. 

The windows of the van were lightly foggy and Gerard's stomach dropped even as he reached for the door, because he'd seen _Titanic_ on TV and knew what was going to happen. 

Gabe was sprawled on the middle seat, Gerard's seat, his back against the window and one of his skinny legs braced on the floor, Mikey's head moving in his lap. Gerard stared at Gabe's fingers restlessly pulling on Mikey's hair for what seemed like hours but was probably only a fraction of a moment, and then looked up at Gabe's face in horror. 

"Shit, sorry, sorry."

Gabe glared at him. "When the van's a-rockin'--"

"It wasn't rocking!" Gerard screeched. 

"Gee," Mikey said in a strained, muffled voice. Gerard looked down at Mikey. He'd pulled off, fuck, and that wasn't a thought Gerard ever needed, and rested his face against Gabe's thigh, hiding it from Gerard but giving him a glimpse of Gabe's cock. 

"Okay," said Gerard in a high voice. "Sorry."

He slammed the door and walked a careful ten paces away from the van, lighting a cigarette with shaky hands. Fucking Frank. He would pay. 

The thing was, he thought, that it wasn't really fair that Mikey was getting laid on a regular basis on tour, when tour was supposed to be a long, cold, barren stretch of sexual frustration, perhaps broken up with occasional hookups at bars, if you were lucky. Mikey didn't even need to find a time or place to jerk off quietly, apparently, because Saporta took care of that. 

Of course, Mikey had said that he blew Gabe, not the other way around -- and what would that be like, to be in Mikey's place, to suck Gabe's dick as Gabe's long fingers pulled on his hair, and to get Gabe off, maybe even swallow, and have to jerk off because Gabe wouldn't reciprocate? There was no way this was good enough for Mikey. 

The van door slid open with a loud noise and Gerard jerked awake, to reality. Half his cigarette was a column of ash. "Fuck," he muttered, and the ash fell on his jeans. He'd probably have to wash those, too. 

Mikey dropped to his knees in front of Gerard. "Sorry about that."

Gerard brushed the ash off his thigh but that only made it smear. "Not your fault. I zoned out."

"I meant about the fucking," Mikey said dryly. 

Gerard looked up at Mikey's face. His skin was a little pink, and his mouth was more than a little pink, but otherwise he looked like normal Mikey. Apparently hair-pulling did nothing to the carefully arranged bird's nest of his hair. 

"Not your fault," Gerard finally repeated. "I zoned out there, too. I should've guessed."

Mikey scratched his neck and rolled his shoulder. "Why did you come out here?"

"Frankie's making me do laundry."

Mikey wrinkled his nose, but bravely said, "I'll help," and offered Gerard a hand, pulling him up and forward to the van. 

The van smelled like unfamiliar jizz, heavily diluted by the smell of stale clothes. Gerard hauled out their duffel bags as fast as he could, avoiding the bench where Gabe and Mikey had been, and threw each one behind him, out the open door at Mikey's feet. 

Mikey's jeans were a little tented. 

"He still not blowing you?" Gerard asked, biting his tongue way too late. 

"If you asked him to get you off, he would." Mikey's voice was archly amused. 

Gerard crawled out of the van ass-first, trying for dignity. Mikey was standing behind five duffels and making no move to pick any of them up. "I don't. I was just curious."

"Are you sure you don't?"

Gerard threaded the straps of three of the bags over his shoulder and moved toward the venue doors, hauling the bags behind him like a barge. "I was just curious, fuck you. I can't take an interest in my brother's life?"

"You can," said Mikey affectionately. His voice was pretty close, so Gerard at least didn't have to worry about Mikey going back on his offer to help. "It's cool, Gee, seriously."

"It's just that," said Gerard, panting, "it's a question of fairness."

"Uh-huh."

It was a little warmer inside. Gerard blinked and looked for the venue guy who knew about the washers. He was nowhere to be found, but Mikey tugged on his sleeve. "I know where it is."

They dragged the duffel bags backstage, down a nearly endless stretch of corridors folded in on each other like intestines, the smoke-saturated guts of the building. Gerard followed Mikey turn after turn, sweating and watching Mikey kick Ray's bag down the hall like a really heavy soccer ball and making his own bag swing from his shoulder like a really heavy pendulum. The motion made Mikey rock back and forth, reminiscent of a tree in a gale. A small, skinny tree wearing jeans that slipped precariously with every move. Gerard almost wanted to take one of Mikey's bags, except he could barely handle the ones he had now. He felt his own jeans sagging lower and lower on his ass. It was definitely time to wash them. 

Mikey finally kicked not the duffel but an inconspicuous door. "Cool, it's still there."

Gerard heaved the duffels inside and pulled them to the beat-up heavy-duty washer and dryer. "Does this room, like, shift dimensions?"

Mikey lifted himself up onto the dryer and pulled up his legs. "The washer could be a TARDIS."

Gerard sighed. "You said you'd help me."

"I am helping you." 

Gerard glared at Mikey and started unzipping the bags. Mikey blinked mildly through his glasses. "Do the jeans first."

Gerard pulled out several pairs of jeans from each bag and shoved them into the washer. "Should I do mine, too?"

Mikey shrugged. He already had his phone out. 

Gerard sighed and undid his belt, slipping it out of the loops. The jeans fell off without even needing to be unzipped and unbuttoned, and he threw them into the washer with the other pants. 

"Batman," Mikey said approvingly. "Nice."

Gerard shook an arbitrary amount of detergent into the washer and hit Start. At least this unit appeared to only have one setting. The washer whirred to life with a surprising lack of noise. 

Mikey patted the washer's lid and Gerard scrambled up on top of it. "I think you got the better deal here," Mikey said, eyebrows waggling ever so slightly. 

Gerard felt himself blush. "Shut up, it's hardly moving anyway."

Mikey laughed under his breath and reached out, sliding a finger under the cuff of Gerard's hoodie, a warm gesture that made Gerard's chest cavity dissolve into something smooth and hot like cocoa. 

"It's better that I'm not sitting there," Mikey said contemplatively. "Yeah."

Gerard shook his hair off his face. "Ew."

Mikey giggled. "You wanted to know all about it before."

"I wanted to know about Gabe!"

"Like how he is in bed?"

"You've never had sex in a bed," Gerard said, alarmed. "Have you?"

"It's just an expression." Mikey chewed on his lip, which was still pink and puffy, and Gerard zeroed in on it without even wanting to, because it was just _there_. "It's hot, you know?"

"Yeah?" Gerard breathed. The cocoa sloshed around his insides. 

Mikey gave him a tiny dreamy smile. "I blow him and he doesn't get me off because that's what I want."

"You don't want him to get you off?" Gerard blinked. "Why not?"

Mikey shifted on the dryer. "I like the way it makes me feel."

Gerard shook his head. His stomach felt funny. "I can't believe you're choosing blue balls, Mikes."

"You should try it," Mikey said with a hint of laughter behind his words. 

"We live in a van. I am trying it."

"It's not the same. Seriously, he'd be into it."

Gerard shifted on the washer, which was vibrating only very slightly, and shoved the image of Mikey's head in Gabe's lap aside. "He'd be into a blowjob? No shit."

Mikey actually rolled his eyes. "He says you look like me."

Gerard frowned and looked at his hands. He only had a small, misshapen circle of black polish left on each nail. 

"It's really good, you know?" said Mikey. His voice was low but somehow it resonated louder that way and Gerard heard each word perfectly. "Really hot all over your body, and it lasts for hours. Fuck, I-- " He broke into a laugh. "I'm thinking about it now and it hurts everywhere. In a really, really fucking good way."

Gerard's stomach hurt too, and there was a zinging weakness running up and down his one of his fingers. He sneaked a look at Mikey. He couldn't make out his eyes behind his lenses in the dim light, but Mikey's splayed legs, the tension in his arms and the way he was biting his mouth were obvious. 

Gerard's hand shook a little when he raised it to touch his own mouth. "That's a hell of a pitch, shit." He hadn't had sex in forever, and it was definitely not the kind of sex that was worth thinking about for hours and hours. He couldn't even remember it now. 

"You should do it. And then tell me about it." 

Gerard shifted a little closer to Mikey, trying to figure out his expression, but Mikey was very, very blank. "Fine, okay. I'll hit on your not-boyfriend."

"You do that," said Mikey and hopped off the dryer to rifle through his bag. He emerged with a bottle with a few fingers of vodka still sloshing around on the bottom. "Liquid courage?"

*

Frank looked thrilled when they brought the clean laundry into the dressing room. 

"I dropped your underpants on the floor and I don't remember which pair it was," said Gerard sourly, looking around for the beer. He felt deeply, deeply queasy. Part of it was how warm he felt from sharing the vodka with Mikey, but partly it was that Ray and Otter were nowhere to be seen, which meant they were already setting up. Gerard knew that, had warmed up in the laundry room while the dryer worked on the last load and Mikey looked on approvingly, but there was something about knowing Ray was already up there, tuning and checking up on stage while restless, excited kid eyes looked up, devouring what he was doing. It made it real for Gerard, too. 

Frank bounced up to Gerard on his way out the door and planted a smacking kiss on his cheek. "Love you too."

Gerard's eyes blurred. He followed Frank out into the corridor, Mikey traipsing behind him. Frank lit up and circled in around himself like a dog, restless and tough, and Mikey stood a few feet away from Gerard, tiny and skinny and so himself, projecting an air of over it but obviously terrified. Gerard's heart swelled in his chest and almost burst. 

"You two, you're my little brothers."

Frank blew smoke into Gerard's ear and Gerard batted him away. "You're the annoying little brother.

Mikey smiled faintly and then wider, reaching in to pat Gerard's hair into place. 

Gerard smiled back at him helplessly. "Do I look sweet? I feel sweet."

Mikey grinned at him, almost as wide as Gerard. "Yeah, you look sweet." 

He ran his fingers through Gerard's hair for a few more long moments, fixing the strands around the part, shifting them out of place and making Gerard's scalp ache from the unfamiliar rearrangement, a hurt that zigzagged from the top of his head into his body, bad but also good. He felt his cheeks get hot, but he couldn't look away from Mikey's face, from the soft unknowing look in his eyes. 

He cleared his throat. "Thanks, Mikey, I probably look like shit now."

Mikey smiled at him again and stepped away. 

Frank was watching them and finishing his smoke, leaning against the grimy wall, and when he saw them looking back, he nodded and veered off towards the stage. Gerard's stomach dropped. It was time. 

Ray was still tuning his guitar so Gerard paced sidestage, waiting for Ray to give him the sign that everything was ready. 

"Way!" 

Gerard blinked and Gabe was there. "Oh, hey."

Gabe wasn't smiling, exactly, but he had that expression on his face that Gerard found insufferable, the one that said that something was hilarious but Gabe was the only one in on the joke. 

"Sorry about before, man."

Gerard pursed his lips and looked up at Gabe. He was very, very tall. "How did you two fit in there?" he asked, waving his hand. "I mean with your legs and dick and shit?"

Gabe smirked. Fuck, Gerard hated to be laughed at. "Your brother is pretty flexible, what can I say?"

"Forget I asked."

In a repeat of that morning, Gabe rubbed Gerard's head with his knuckles. Gerard batted his hands away. "Can't."

Gerard shook his head, trying to make the flashing images from before fall out and clear up some space in his mind. Behind the churning of his stomach from the stage fright and the vodka was a sick, unpleasant confusion.

Gabe was looking at him knowingly, but the last few years had taught Gerard that most people with that look were desperately fronting. It was time to get onstage anyway. The crowd was getting louder and the need to be _there_ , in front of it, was a shard wedged in his heart and working its way out. 

*

After the set, Gerard stumbled offstage, nearly tripping over the backs of Mikey's feet. The passage backstage was drafty and his shirt was already ice-cold between his stifling and damp jacket and his overheated body. 

"Shit," he said. "Shit. That was -- fuck."

"Yeah," Mikey said breathlessly, whirling around and turning Gerard around too to watch Ray and Frank unplug the guitars. "C'mon, towels."

"Towels," Gerard agreed.

They nearly ran into Gabe on the way to the dressing rooms. He was pacing -- strutting, really -- and Gerard cut his eyes to Mikey as soon as they caught sight of him, just to see how Mikey would react. Mikey wasn't looking at Gabe, though; he was looking back at Gerard, blinking, his face shining with sweat. Gerard felt himself blush. 

"We're gonna watch your set, Saporta," Mikey announced loudly. "Rock on."

Gabe flipped them off and Mikey laughed, pushing Gerard inside the dressing room. The towels were neatly stacked on a table and Gerard sent a prayer to the venue gods. 

"What did you talk about before?" Mikey asked, lifting his shirt and wiping off the sweat off his chest and belly.

"Uh." Gerard shook his head. Something was buzzing there. He wasn't used to being this confused this much of the time. "He said you were flexible."

"Sweet." Mikey sounded happy. "Seriously, go hang with him tonight."

Gerard shook his head, not because he disagreed that he wanted to but because he wasn't sure how these things followed. "Is that really what you want?"

Mikey shrugged one shoulder. "I want lots of things. Not all of them are gonna happen, though, so I have to prioritize."

"Deep." Gerard tugged off his jacket and put on a fresh t-shirt, one that still smelled like detergent. 

Mikey handed him a beer. "That's me."

The rest of the night went pretty hazy, but the parts that weren't stood out over-saturated in Gerard's eyes: Gabe on stage, moving his hips and smirking; the heavy warm weight of Mikey pressed against his side; his own fingers shredding the label on his bottle of Bud. 

"I'll find you later," Mikey shouted into Gerard's ear sometime during the first five songs, and that stood out above the music, too, the sound of Mikey's voice and the tickling of his lips against Gerard's ear. 

Gerard tore his eyes away from Gabe to watch Mikey wander off and vanish in the crowd. Gerard could always find Mikey because he was unique, but when Mikey wanted to disappear in an anonymous press of bodies, he did it completely. No matter how well Gerard knew his form and every article of clothing Mikey owned, there was no seeing him when Mikey didn't want to be seen. 

Gerard looked back at Gabe and rolled the neck of the bottle round and round between his index finger and thumb until they cramped. He could definitely hit on Gabe. He'd... he was excited about it, he was surprised to realize. His skin felt itchy and tight and his mouth was dry and there was an ache in the pit of his stomach. It had been so long since he got laid. 

Except... it wouldn't be getting laid, really. It would just be him getting Gabe laid, which seemed unfair. Gerard frowned as Midtown launched into another song and Gabe took a deep breath, the tendons in his throat flexing. Fuck. 

Gerard bit his lip and watched until the break before the encore, not really listening but more letting the bassline in, letting it worry his ribcage and get to his heart inside. He only blinked when Gabe rattled down the stairs sidestage and grabbed his hand. 

"The fuck?" Gerard demanded, and Gabe shot him a grin over his shoulder, one so dirty Gerard's dick twitched. Okay then. 

"We have five minutes," Gabe said, opening a random door and dragging Gerard inside. "If I'm late, my band will make me pay."

"Hold the fucking door shut," said Gerard and dropped to his knees. 

Gabe clutched the doorknob with a flailing hand. "Five minutes."

Gerard rolled his eyes and unzipped Gabe's jeans, which were damp and definitely unlaundered, and pulled Gabe's dick out of his even damper underwear. 

Gabe's skin was sweaty, too, and his dick was slick and salty when Gerard rubbed it against his mouth. 

"Fuck," Gabe groaned. "Four minutes."

"Beat it with the countdown," said Gerard and took Gabe in. Fuck, he'd missed giving head, missed the way it made his mouth ache and his jaw cramp. 

Gabe's fingers skittered over Gerard's head and then clenched in his hair. "You're just like..."

Something in Gerard twitched and broke, flooded his chest with a hot-cold sensation. He pulled off, moving his mouth to work out the strain. "What?"

Gabe's head thumped against the door. "Dude. Chitchat later."

Gerard leaned back on his knees and stared at Gabe. "No, what were you going to say?"

Gabe looked down at Gerard with eyes that were both annoyed and pleading. "I've just never bagged brothers before."

"Holy shit." Gerard wiped his mouth and scrambled up. "That is how boners die."

Gabe smirked and looked down pointedly. Gerard felt his whole body get hot and flood with something like anger and he reached for the doorknob.

"Hey!" Gabe said, his face turning serious. He put his hand on Gerard's over the doorknob. It was warm, sweaty, surprising for somebody so cool. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it."

"You can't say shit like that," Gerard said through clenched teeth. 

Gabe crooked up the corner of his mouth. "Well, I did, and to be fair--"

"Stop." Gerard sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and made a decision. "Okay, whatever."

Gabe's answering smirk was annoying but at least familiar territory, and it was really funny to watch it be wiped clean at the pounding on the door. "Encore time, Saporta," Hitt yelled into the crack between the door and the frame. "Come the fuck out." 

Gabe frantically stuffed his dick into his underwear and pulled up his jeans. "Okay, okay, shit shit shit." 

Gerard smirked now. "Keep your trap shut when you only have five minutes. Life lessons."

Gabe rolled his eyes and pressed Gerard to the door in a shockingly smooth move. "I'm collecting later," he said and gave Gerard's dick a firm squeeze.

Gerard hung back in the shadows of the room, holding onto his junk and thinking as Gabe opened the door and left. His thoughts led nowhere good, but he _had_ missed giving head and was pissed at Gabe for ruining it. Well. Either Gabe would do better next time, or Gerard would. 

Gerard didn't have to wait long -- the encore ended with a screech of the speakers two songs later, then the cheering faded into the low rumble of a thousand people's chatter, and then the talking, too, moved away and was replaced by the sound of wheels on the floor. Gerard opened the door cautiously and nearly screamed.

"Chill!" Gabe hissed at him with a manic grin and shoved Gerard, pushing him back inside the room. 

"This room is losing its novelty value," said Gerard, his last words trailing into a mumble because Gabe leaned down and kissed him, hard and with tongue, and Gerard's dick perked up again. 

"Do you kiss Mikey too?" Gerard asked stupidly when Gabe pulled away. 

Gabe raised an eyebrow and pushed down on Gerard's shoulder, gently enough for it to come off as a hint and not piss Gerard off. "I thought you didn't want me to talk about him."

"I don't," said Gerard, flushing hot, and got on his knees. "Undo your own pants this time." 

"That's what I like to hear from a Way," Gabe said, undoing his zipper and pulling out his cock, red and hard and _big_. 

Fuck, Gerard wanted exactly that, so he metaphorically gritted his teeth and let it go. He did a few neck stretches and went down, letting himself get into the rhythm of it, the slide of cock over his tongue and the way the corners of his mouth ached that meant he'd need to buy more chapstick.

Gerard stroked the base of Gabe's cock with one thumb, letting his balls fall into the palm of his hand, and dropped his other hand down to his own dick, pressing hard to make it bearable. Above him, Gabe moaned, and Gerard sucked harder, and then it turned out that Gabe was a talker. A quiet, muttery one, but it was so quiet outside the door by now that Gerard heard every single word.

"You're just like, fuck, this is just like that time -- sorry, sorry," Gabe was saying breathily, biting the base of his thumb until the next cascade of pent-up words tumbled out of his mouth. "It's just. He does that thing too, the thumb, it's so fucking hot, god, why doesn't everyone fuck both of you, fuck."

Gerard was desperate to pull off and punch the asshole in both eyes, but he could feel his dick leaking through his underwear and starting on his clean jeans, so instead he went lower, all the way until the head of Gabe's dick bumped the back of his throat and Gabe's head thunked on the door just like before. He was shaking, now -- Gabe's thighs were shaking so hard that Gerard felt it despite not touching them, and when Gabe came, Gerard just swallowed and swallowed and didn't listen to Gabe's incoherent stream of dirty talk.

He got up, wiped his mouth, and pushed his hair back. Gabe was flushed all the way down to his neck and it was kind of fascinating, seeing him like that. He had been kind of flushed when Gerard had thrown open the van door too, and that thought made Gerard's heart beat harder for some reason. 

He must've had a strange look on his face because Gabe swallowed and pulled Gerard to him by the hem of his t-shirt, his hand dropping to Gerard's fly. "Your turn," Gabe said in a low voice, gently biting at the edge of his jaw. "Handjob okay? I don't really do oral."

"That makes you a tool," Gerard pointed out, pushing down the weirdness happening in his chest and canting his hips into Gabe's hand for a split second until he remembered. "Wait, no."

Gabe paused with his hand between the teeth of Gerard's zipper. "No?"

Gerard didn't really understand why he'd said no. "Uh."

"Is this because of Mikeyway?" Gabe asked with a grin in his voice. "Dude."

"Shut up," Gerard said, flushing. "He just said it was good, that's all."

Gabe stroked Gerard's dick lightly through his underwear, making Gerard hiss. "I don't know what Mikey's deal is, but I think it's fucking weird. But hey, if you don't want to, you don't want to."

Gerard took Gabe's hand out of his pants, already regretting it. "I _want_ to -- I just want to try this too."

Gabe shrugged and pulled away. "'Kay. Let me know if you change your mind."

Gabe stepped out of the room, the door closing behind him with a soft click. Gerard's band would start looking for him soon -- even Mikey couldn't stave that off forever - but Gerard stood in the dark room for a while, pushing down the want and the ache in his dick until the sweat at the small of his back cooled down enough to make him start to shiver. It was probably time to leave. 

He climbed into the van last. It was frigid inside, so at least they hadn't been idling the engine waiting for him. The Midtown van had already left, only a stray Doritos wrapper marking where it had been parked. Ray was behind the wheel again and drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, but not too hard, which meant he was only a little bit annoyed with Gerard for being late. 

Mikey was curled up in the backseat and Frank in the seat in the middle. Both of them looked like they were asleep; after a moment, Gerard slid in next to Frank and Ray took the van out of park. 

Frank blinked awake and shifted so his head was no longer resting against the window but Gerard's shoulder. "Mikey's back there," he mumbled, rubbing his head on Gerard's hoodie. He'd somehow managed to wash it, because it was still damp and smelled of unfamiliar shampoo. 

"I know," Gerard told him quietly. "I don't want to wake him up."

Even as he said that, he knew it was a lie, not least because he was pretty sure Mikey was awake despite thrashing in the thick crowd and drinking fuck knows how many drinks people had bought him. It was uncomfortable, lying about Mikey, but it was also uncomfortable to think of Gabe and Gabe's stupid dirty talk and Gerard's lingering semi. 

Frank huffed but didn't question him, just settled into Gerard's shoulder more comfortably as Ray took them in the direction of Virginia with a combination of inspired guesswork and Otter's maps. 

"What did you promise Ray in exchange for not driving?" Gerard asked after a while of trying to fall asleep and not being able to. 

Frank snorted sleepily. "That I'd change the next flat."

Gerard covered his mouth and laughed. "It was your turn anyway."

"Mm-hmm. He needs to keep better track."

They lapsed into silence again. Gerard kept still and enjoyed the warmth from the heater; it mellowed the soreness in his jaw and the ache of still being turned on and the inexplicably guilty knowledge that Mikey was awake and silent in the backseat. 

In an attempt to relieve his conscience, he whispered, "Night, Mikes"; Mikey knocked softly on the back the seat, and then Gerard was finally able to drift off.

When he woke up to the slamming of the van door and loud voices, his first thought was that he'd somehow fucked up the past twenty-four hours and was back in Pennsylvania, about to warm his balls on a cheesesteak. But this time the voices weren't happy, and his balls weren't being warmed - they were being kneed by Frank as he climbed over Gerard to get to the door. 

"Wha..." Gerard cleared his throat. "Ow ow ow."

"Get the fuck out, assholes," Frank said angrily. Gerard winced and clapped his hands over his ears. "I'm not changing the tire with your asses in here."

Oh. Karma. 

"C'mon," said Mikey in a quiet voice, touching Gerard's hand and pulling on it.

Gerard followed Mikey out, still half-asleep, but the chill of the night and the whooshing air from the occasional passing car woke him up quickly. 

Ray looked smug as Frank kicked rocks under the wheels and got out the jack. "Collecting the same night. Thank you, universe."

Otter rolled his eyes, hugged his arms around his chest, and went to help Frank loosen the lug nuts. 

Gerard looked at Mikey. He was shivering in one unzipped hoodie and his hair was all fucked up from show and crowd and sleep. "Mom's going to kill me if you get pneumonia."

Mikey shuffled up to Gerard and planted his face in Gerard's shoulder, just like the night before. Maybe this was something like Groundhog Day. A new twist on a classic. 

"D'you think we're reliving the last twenty-four hours?" Gerard asked, wrapping his arms around Mikey and squeezing him tight. He couldn't help himself.

"We didn't get a flat last night," Mikey pointed out, but Gerard could tell he was intrigued. 

"But we were driving last night too," said Gerard. His nose was cold so he buried it in Mikey's hair. "Although--"

"Yeah!" Mikey enthusiastically said into Gerard's shoulder. "Touring is like that."

"And we gotta do it until we get it right." Gerard felt something anxious snake through him. "Which means we got something wrong this time. Every night 'til the end of the tour."

Mikey shrugged. "Maybe Toro got something wrong. Played a chord with the wrong fingers."

Gerard snorted. "Maybe I shouldn't have fucked Gabe Saporta."

Mikey stilled and the same anxiousness wedged itself in Gerard's ribcage. 

"I mean, I just blew him. That was okay, right?"

Mikey cleared his throat. "Yeah, that probably wasn't it."

Gerard kicked at the dust on the ground. "It's fucking cold."

"Really fucking cold," Mikey nodded and hid his fingers under the hem of Gerard's sleeves. Gerard squeaked. They were like icicles. "Sorry."

"S'okay. They'll warm up." 

Mikey nodded and rubbed his fingers against Gerard's wrist. "Already warming up. So. Did you like it?"

Gerard blinked. "Your icicle hands?"

Mikey rolled his eyes and shifted so his other side was warming up against Gerard's chest. "The sex."

"Oh." Gerard chewed on his lip uncomfortably. "It was--" It _had_ been good, despite the first aborted attempt and despite Gabe's inability to stop talking about Mikey. "It was good."

"You sound really excited about it."

Gerard waved his hands, dislodging Mikey's fingers in the process. His wrists suddenly felt colder. "No, it's just that I got all worked up - _he_ got me all worked up and then I thought of y -- I remembered what you told me and I don't think it's working for me."

Mikey was quiet for a long moment in which Gerard remembered with remarkable clarity he didn't often have Mikey telling him all quiet and matter-of-fact that he didn't care if he came or not, that it was fun when he didn't. He remembered Gabe, too, asking, "Why doesn't everyone fuck both of you?" Gabe talking and talking and talking about Mikey, too fast for Gerard to shut down even when he still wanted to. 

"I mean, it is pretty weird," Mikey finally offered. He was looking somewhere past Gerard's head, into the darkened fields, while Gerard watched Frank slowly lowering the jack, putting an expiration date on this conversation. 

Gerard nodded. It was pretty weird, with him and Gabe and Mikey and Gabe and everything. 

"It's just distracting," Mikey explained slowly, as though every word was falling out of him without his permission. "Just... wanting sex instead of wanting something specific."

"Huh," said Gerard and squeezed Mikey tighter. Something was bothering him, but Ray shouted for them to get the fuck into the van already and the fuzzy outline of the thing blurred, dissolving against the backdrop of his mind. 

Frank was pissed off and about as cuddly as a very small porcupine. Without him to lean on, Gerard couldn't go back to sleep, not even after the air had been on for a while and all of his frozen limbs warmed up. He picked at the fabric of the day, slow and idle, Mikey-Gabe-Mikey-Gabe-Mikey, everything unnervingly mixed up and strange and not nearly as funny as anything Bill Murray would've signed up for. 

Mikey. Gabe. Mikey. Gerard's mouth went dry. He sat still for a drawn-out moment, surprised at how many beats of his heart fit into that single instance, and then quietly crawled over to the backseat, careful not to disturb a single one of Frank's bristling needles. 

"Mikes," he hissed, wiggling a box of Otter's crap out of the way so there'd be enough room to sit next to Mikey. 

Mikey had somehow made himself a nest of hoodies and blankets in the back. Some of the insulation looked like a pair of Ray's boxers. He opened his eyes and stared at Gerard like an owl peering out of its hollow. 

"Nice," said Gerard, squeezing himself in closer. "This is like a fucking blanket fort. But dude, if that's why you've been wandering around outside in like one layer, mom's gonna be pissed."

Mikey blinked and somehow shifted one of the blankets to let Gerard into the fort, not unlike lowering a drawbridge. It was very, very warm there, all soft cotton and the bony heating elements of Mikey's body. 

Mikey was falling asleep fast. Gerard shook him. 

"Fuck, what?"

Gerard sat up to get a better look at Mikey's sleepy face. "You said it distracts you from wanting something."

"Oh," said Mikey. "Yeah. I don't know, whatever:"

Gerard wedged an arm between Mikey's back and the blankets to hug him. "Whatever kink you have, it's cool. I mean, I hear Saporta's seen it all, it's not like it'll faze him."

Mikey laughed mirthlessly and drew in on himself. "Yeah, no."

Gerard went further in for another hug. "No, seriously. Or, wait, is it someone else? When you said something else, did you mean _someone_ else?"

Somehow, maybe deliberately dislocating his shoulder, Mikey stuck a painful elbow in Gerard's side. "It's none of your business."

Gerard went quiet for a moment, listening to the noises in the van. Frank's loud stuffed-up sleep-breathing, Ray singing under his breath to a Thursday CD, nothing else. Gerard put his mouth right up to Mikey's ear. "Is it Otter?"

Mikey shoved him again, hard, wedging the elbow straight into the ribs so hard Gerard's eyes teared up. "Shut. _Up_."

Gerard hunched in on himself, same as Mikey, throbbing pain in his side and a sick feeling in his stomach and something very much like anger forming in his chest. "Okay, fine, fucking _fine_."

"Just leave it alone," Mikey said in a plaintive voice. 

Gerard buried his face in his hands and didn't reply. 

*

When he woke up, it was like the morning before just like the night was like the night before. Gerard was sweating bullets in a sun-warmed cocoon of blankets that smelled like Mikey. 

That thought went down like a lead balloon. Gerard fought his way to the surface and tugged on his coat. Where the fuck were they, anyway? The only reason he remembered where they'd been the night before was because it was the 9 fucking 30 Club. He was pretty sure tonight's venue wasn't epic enough to commit to memory. 

This time, when he went outside, he remembered his shades, so at least the sunlight wasn't as blinding anymore. They were parked across the street from a diner, and Gerard could see Ray's hair through the window. 

The diner would have coffee, but there would also be the rest of it, same as the day before, and Gerard couldn't handle that. He grabbed his sketchbook from the van instead and wandered into the venue, down twisty corridors somewhere he could not think alone.

When he looked up, his phone showed a bunch of missed calls and Toro was standing over him in disapproval. "Is this where you've been all day?"

Gerard rubbed his eyes, wiping off the crusty bits. "I was busy."

Ray handed Gerard a limp-looking sandwich in a convenience store wrapper. "Eat and then go warm up." 

Gerard blinked and tore off the paper. "Turkey club?"

Ray nodded. "Seriously, eat and go warm up, it's like an hour to our set."

Gerard froze with his mouth open. "Shit." Now he felt it, the numbness of his ass and the chilliness of the wall he was leaning on, and that he hadn't peed or drunk coffee all day. Also, that Mikey was still mad at him. "Shit, I have a lot to do before that."

Ray sighed. "Bathroom's to the left when you leave the room. Dressing room too."

Gerard nodded and blinked Ray goodbye, tearing into the sandwich. It was pretty okay, even if Ray hasn't thought to bring him coffee to wash it down. 

The bathroom was a short walk down the hall, and in the bathroom were Gabe and Mikey, mercifully both clothed and upright. Gerard only got a split second view of Mikey's wide, surprised eyes, bitten lips, and red, stubble-burned jaw before he slammed the door shut. Okay. There was probably another bathroom. This was a music venue. 

"Hey," Mikey said quietly behind him as he paced sidestage waiting for Ray to give the ready signal. 

"Hey," Gerard echoed, turning around. Mikey's lips and jaw were still a little red, and his eyes were a little red too. "Uh, sorry about..." Gerard waved his hand. "Are you okay?"

Mikey gave him a blank look. "Yeah."

Gerard scuffed his foot on the floor. "Okay. Uh, aren't you cold?"

Mikey rubbed at his goosebump-covered arms. "I guess a little."

Gerard pulled off his jacket. "C'mon, put this on."

"You're giving me your frontman mojo?" Mikey said with a faint smile and let Gerard help him tug the jacket on. 

"My mojo isn't all in my clothes." Gerard folded down the jacket collar and smoothed Mikey's hair in the back where the jacket had ruffled it. 

"I know," Mikey said quietly. 

There was the smallest catch in his voice. Gerard bit his lip. "You were mad at me last night and then you and Gabe... What did I do?"

Mikey narrowed his eyes, but they were still red and swollen and that took the fight out of them. "You didn't do anything."

Gerard looked around to make sure Ray was still tuning and no one was watching and pulled Mikey into an equipment-blocked corner that shut out the audience and stray techs. "Is it because I made that joke about Otter?"

Mikey pulled Gerard's jacket tighter around himself, shivering finely. "It's not."

Gerard helplessly watched Mikey's hands shake ever so slightly. "No, but... that's when you got mad at me."

"I didn't," Mikey insisted. "I fucking didn't, let it go."

"What's wrong?" Gerard reached out to steady Mikey's hands, placing his own over them. He waited for Mikey to stop shivering, to relax, for his fingers to unclench, but Mikey just gripped his arms tighter. "I don't get it."

Mikey huffed angrily and Gerard looked up into Mikey's face, which was suddenly closer to his, close enough that Gerard could see the dried tear tracks under his eyes and smell Gabe's aftershave on his skin.

"Just tell me what's wrong," Gerard said quietly, even though he already knew and didn't want to know and all his insides felt painful and dry, and he didn't even finish talking before Mikey leaned in and kissed him. 

Gerard tried to hold onto Mikey's hands, but now his were shaking too, and Mikey was the one holding him together. His mouth was hot even though the kiss was clumsy, dry closed lips on Gerard's still frozen in the middle of _wrong_ , and Gerard had to push him away because there were people and there was no time.

"So... yeah," said Mikey after a moment, breathy and calm. "That's what was wrong."

"That's not..." said Gerard shakily, trying to drag his eyes away from Mikey's mouth, which was still red and swollen, but not in a way made Gerard want to kick things. 

"Yeah, I know it's not," said Mikey, twisting around Gerard and stepping out of the little corner so Gerard couldn't follow and couldn't insist. "We gotta get up there. Ray's going to lose his mind."

Gerard watched Mikey take one careful step after the other onstage and listened to the rise in volume from the pit. He hadn't had time for a drink and Ray hadn't brought him a beer with the sandwich, but he didn't have room for stage fright now, not when everything was upended and different and new. 

He wanted to run after Mikey right now, but he waited until the crunch of the guitars and the heartbeat of Mikey's bass to get up there, and once he did, it was to throw the kids' screams right back at them, howl everything at them. It was enough to make Ray keep to stage left and for Frank to tangle his cord under Gerard's feet and get in the way and hurl himself at Gerard exuberantly.

Gerard kept looking over his shoulder at Mikey, who kept fading into Midtown's equipment between the songs like a fucking ghost, and that -- that was just not fucking acceptable. It was not fucking acceptable for Mikey to be afraid and shrinking.

Frank grinned, half-evil and half-joyous, when Gerard ripped the cord of the mic out from under his feet and stalked toward Mikey, screaming the words at him until Mikey looked at him and met his eyes. 

Gerard sang to him, as much as he could get away with, whirling away when Mikey shrank back and later returning again and again, and it felt like any other time they'd been there for each other, the only crutch they needed, both necessary and sufficient.

*

Of course, that didn't mean they'd never resented it, so Gerard was barely surprised when they wrapped up and Mikey stalked offstage.

Frank watched Mikey go with a confused look. "What's his problem?" 

Gerard picked up Frank's stale beer and drained the last inch at the bottom of the bottle, rolling it around in his mouth until it wasn't so dry he felt like he'd pass out.

"I'm working on it."

Frank frowned. "Is it your fault?"

Gerard shrugged one shoulder and shuffled down the stairs offstage. "It's not anyone's fault."

"If you say so," Frank said dubiously.

Gerard bit his lip and breathed out. Now that they had more than two ill-timed minutes, they had to talk about it. "I'll fix it."

Mikey was behind the sixth door he tried.

"Mikey."

"Go away," said Mikey in a hollow voice. "Midtown's on in, like, ten, you don't want to miss them."

"I don't like pop punk." Gerard stepped inside the bathroom and clicked on the lock. "And if you didn't want me here, you'd have locked the door."

Mikey finally met Gerard's eyes. "I didn't think you'd want you here."

"Well, I do." Gerard hoisted himself up on the sink counter next to Mikey. He felt almost too warm with Mikey radiating damp heat right next to him. Neither of them had had a chance to cool down. "You're my brother."

"I _know_ that," said Mikey with an edge of frustration, ducking his head again. "That's why I was doing my own thing. And you should go do your own thing too. I'll deal with this."

Gerard shifted to look at Mikey, one leg slipping off the counter and the edge of the sink digging painfully into the other. "You're not listening to me."

Mikey glared at Gerard sideways. "I'm listening to you. I'm your brother."

Gerard huffed and turned Mikey's face towards him, pushing with two fingers at his jaw until Mikey gave up. "You're not hearing what I'm actually saying. You're my brother and I love you."

It took a second for Gerard to make up his mind, but Mikey was furrowing his brow and still not getting it, so Gerard leaned in and kissed the corner of Mikey's mouth, and then kissed the edge of his bottom lip and stayed there, just feeling Mikey close and breathing through his light-headedness and the flip-flopping of his heart. 

"Oh," said Mikey against his mouth. Gerard giggled because it tickled. "You know what this means, though. I told you what I really want."

Gerard pressed his cheek to Mikey's, breathing in the smell of his hair, unwashed and cigarette-stale but totally Mikey. He let his hand drop to Mikey's neck, cup it and dip his thumb into the hollow of Mikey's throat to feel Mikey's breath catch. What Mikey really wanted could be something Gerard wanted too. It was surprisingly easy to slip into it in his head, like taking a step to the side and seeing something hidden that was there all along. It was new, different, and strange, but that didn't mean Gerard didn't want it.

It was hard to decide on the right thing to say. Gerard counted the beats of Mikey's pulse and thought it over, so it would be deliberate, so it would be right, the way certain lines wrote themselves and became a song's core. 

"When there's time and privacy, I'll show you that I know."

Mikey swallowed, his throat flexing in a way that made Gerard want never to take his hand away. "Okay."

Gerard rubbed his cheek against Mikey's, really feeling Mikey's skin, feeling the earpiece of his glasses dig in. 

After a while, Mikey spoke up again. "You still think this is a _Groundhog Day_ thing?"

Gerard blinked and pulled away to look at Mikey. "What, you think it'll reset again? But we got it right. Right?"

Mikey shrugged one shoulder with a little smile. "Kissing didn't fix it in the movie. And we're not done touring. Lots of shows to play."

Gerard rolled his eyes. "Well, I'm not about to do good everywhere. It's enough that I washed everyone's gross underpants yesterday."

Mikey hummed under his breath and tugged his t-shirt down where it had ridden up when they had shifted against each other. Gerard watched him, his mouth going dry. They were really going to do this and he really wanted it. That was... something. A bad idea, probably, but their bad ideas usually turned out to be genius. "Maybe where you went wrong was washing everyone's underpants."

"I didn't do that today," Gerard pointed out. 

Mikey smiled at him, smiled for real. "Nope."

Gerard leaned in and kissed him again, pushing through the butterflies and nerves to something that finally felt right after a couple of those weird, wrong, unsettling days. 

Mikey made a quiet noise into his mouth and parted his lips before pulling away. "Okay?"

Gerard nodded so hard his neck hurt. "Are you going to keep sleeping with Gabe?"

Mikey raised an eyebrow and Gerard looked down sheepishly. "Do you want me to keep sleeping with Gabe?"

Gerard shrugged. "Not particularly."

"Cool," Mikey said happily. 

Gerard blinked. "Really?"

"Oh, yeah, it's fine," said Mikey, hopping off the counter and leaning into Gerard for one warm second. "He won't even be sad. Plus he won't have to give me a BJ."

"I should do his laundry as an apology," said Gerard, fiddling with the handle regretfully. He didn't really want to leave the bathroom. It was cozy. 

Mikey giggled and shoved him through the door. Okay. No more laundry.


End file.
